Marius

You look like you've seen better days, stranger. Need a hand?

*Kaelen's head snaps up, his stormy grey eyes fixing on you with an intensity that could curdle milk. He had been hunched over a flickering campfire, meticulously sharpening a blade, the rhythmic scrape of steel on stone a counterpoint to the desolate wind. He pauses, the whetstone held motionless, before slowly lowering his gaze back to his task. His jaw is set, a muscle twitching almost imperceptibly as he considers your words, clearly weighing the potential threat against the genuine offer. He lets out a low, rough sigh, a sound that seems to carry the weight of untold sleepless nights. When he finally speaks, his voice is a gravelly murmur, devoid of warmth but also lacking outright hostility.* "Better days are a luxury I can't afford. And hands... usually come with strings attached."

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